


Jealousy

by BloodEnvy



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Reader Insert, References to Sex, but no intent on sex with rocket, for obvious reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 07:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15262299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodEnvy/pseuds/BloodEnvy
Summary: Rocket’s insecurities over your relationship come to a head when he sees a guy flirting with you at a bar, and they only get worse when he walks into your bunk to find Quill patching you up after a brawl. No one said a relationship between a Terran and a talking raccoon would be easy.





	Jealousy

You sidled up to the bar, slipping between two bar stools to rest my elbows on the bar. The Milano had touched down on Xandar a few hours earlier, and while you were there to find new work, you’d all readily agreed that you were overdue for a drink. Or twelve. You’d piled into a booth at some establishment with a name that you couldn’t pronounce, and you were already a few pints down and beginning to feel that wonderfully familiar lightness that came with the first hit of alcohol to your system.

You glanced back at the others, stifling a laugh as you watched Quill and Drax argue over something you couldn’t hear. Gamora sat beside the wildly gesticulating Star Lord, leaning back into her seat and shaking her head in quiet amusement. Rocket climbed up onto the stool beside you, and you reached over to tickle his ear affectionately. He swiped a paw at your hand, shooing your touch away with a gruff laugh. Usually, you were more hesitant when it came to touching him, mindful of his past traumas, but the other Guardians had learnt early on that you tended to be very physically affectionate when drunk, and since the two of you had fallen into the strange relationship you had, Rocket had just accepted it. And even if he was still sometimes shaky with being touched, he rarely left your side.

“Having fun?”

Rocket looked up at you, a smirk playing at the side of his mouth. “They are so easy to get started.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “What did you do?”

“Nothin’ at all,” he shrugged casually, still grinning. “All I did was mention that Drax thinks all Quill’s music sounds the same and they took it from there.”

“You little shit,” you snickered, scratching the back of his head. He didn’t shake you off this time.

“You love it, doll.”

“What can I get ya, gorgeous?” The bartender interrupted, giving you an appraising look as he did. A smile graced his angular features, and you rewarded him with one of your own; partly because you really were in a great mood and partly because Quill had taught you a while ago that letting the bartender flirt with you usually led to free drinks. You had to lean over the bar to speak over the noise the customers, standing on your toes, and his eyes lit up as if you were asking for something much more suggestive than a round for the table. You smirked victoriously when he charged you half the units as it had cost Quill for the last round.

Rocket slammed the units down on the bar, and you looked at him in surprise. His happy expression had turned irritable, and he grabbed one of the bottles we’d been given. He didn’t look at you as he jumped off the stool and headed back for the booth, tossing the lid over his shoulder. Confused, you thanked the bartender and followed after him, tray of drinks in your hands.

***

As the night drew on, your little family abandoned the booth for their own interests; Gamora was at the bar with Groot and Quill, and Drax and Rocket were gambling over some kind of game you didn’t understand and you were leaning against a wall nearby, nursing a beer and watching them. Every now and then when Rocket had a win he’d glance over at you, and you’d shoot him a smile or a wink in response. Whatever issue he’d had at the bar was apparently forgotten.

“Hey,” you dragged your eyes away from the game table to meet the gaze of a Xandarian man. He was tall and somehow both broad-shouldered and unassuming, but he had friendly eyes and a nice smile. Besides, if he tried anything, you had a blaster hidden on your hip under your jacket. “This is gonna sound weird, but aren’t those guys you’re with those hero people… the Guardians or whatever?”

“As long as you don’t call them heroes, it’s fine,” you smirked. “I’ll never hear the damn end of it.”

“Doesn’t that make you one too?”

You shrugged, sipping at your beer. “I prefer the term free-lance ass kicker.”

He laughed. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I already have one.” You held it up pointedly. “But thanks.”

“Can I get your next one?”

“If you haven’t bored me by then,” you said, smirking.

He grinned. “Challenge accepted.”

***

You snickered, alcohol spinning in your head. You’d had a few by now, and you were enjoying yourself. The guy, whose name you’d already forgotten, was still talking, but his stories of work as a trader were actually kind of entertaining. You glanced back at Rocket’s table, giving him a crooked smile when he looked your way; his brow furrowed when the trader touched your arm to regain your attention.

“You okay?”

I nodded, “I’m great.”

“Great.” He grinned, stepping closer to you. You hadn’t realized just how close he hand gotten in the last half hour. “You know, if you want to keep—”

“Hey, Y/N, you ready to get outta here?” Rocket stepped up to the two of you, his tone hard.

“Hey, honey!” You straightened up from your position against the wall, a smile cracking across your face. “Did you win?”

He shrugged, arms folded across his chest. “We goin’ or not?”

You frowned, confused, but nodded. The others were still at the bar, and didn’t look like they were making any kind of move to leave. “Yeah, sure. Just let me—”

“Hey, wait a minute,” the trader stepped forward, and you frowned down at the hand he placed on your arm. “We’re talking here. Who the hell are you?”

“This is Rocket, he’s my—”

“You’re gonna wanna let go of her arm.” Rocket growled, you noticed then that his speech was a little loose, and he’d obviously been drinking as much as you had.

“Yeah, you really are.” You agreed, brow furrowed. You pulled out of his grasp, but the way he stood stopped you from moving away from the wall and towards Rocket.

“You can’t just leave, I bought you a drink, we’re talking and—”

“And she doesn’t owe you shit.”

“Back off, rat, or I’ll—”

Rocket didn’t have a chance to reach for the blaster strapped to his back; your fist met the guy’s nose before he could. You felt it crunch under your knuckles, and he stumbled back into a stool, which broke beneath him as he fell.

“Oh, fuck!” You swore, shaking your hand as pain exploded in your fist. And _that_ was why you carried a damn blaster. “Fuck, that hurt—”

“You stupid bitch,” the trader barked, blood dripping from his chin. He was struggling to get up from the floor, and Rocket snarled, reaching for his gun. “What the fuck—”

“Y/N! Rocket! It’s time to go.” Quill’s voice interrupted you, and you felt a warm hand close around your wrist. The others had converged on you quickly; whether it was your shouting or the sound of furniture breaking that had caught their attention you weren’t sure. Quill had hold of you, his eyes wide with a mix of urgency and concern. “Now.”

“Right after I teach this guy a few manners,” Rocket slurred, and Drax had to tug the gun out of his grasp. He growled quickly turning on the Destroyer, and you whined.

“Rocket…”

“Y/N, we gotta go.” Quill urged, dragging you with him. “The others will get Rocket.”

You let him pull you away as Gamora made a move to calm Rocket down, her hands up in a pacifying gesture. It wasn’t until you were back on board the Milano and in your bunk that Quill released you, and you sunk onto the bed, groaning.

“What the hell were you doing back there?”

“What?” You exclaimed, nursing your hand. “He called Rocket a rat!”

“So, you punched him?”

“Better me with a fist than Rocket with a blaster!”

Quill looked pointedly down at your hand. “You sure about that?”

You followed his gaze; the trader’s blood was drying against your skin, and you could already see the purple blush of bruises blossoming across your knuckles. “Damn it, that fucking hurts.”

“No shit, you idiot!” Quill eye-rolled. “Now, wait here.”

He returned a few minutes later with the first aid kit and a damp rag. He sat on the bunk beside you, taking your hand gently in both his own. “Jesus, how hard did you hit him?”

You shrugged, hissing slightly as he pressed the rag to your knuckles, cleaning away the blood. “I think I broke his nose.”

“Yeah, and your hand.” He replied, shaking his head. “What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know.” You said, watching him work. “Rocket was being weird all night. Every time I talked with someone he got all moody. Then he said he wanted to go, and I said okay, and that guy went all creepazoid on us and I just…” you huffed. “”s weird. And I’m too drunk for weird.”

“You’re dating a raccoon, my girl is green and there’s a tiny tree walking around this ship. This _space ship._ Weird is what we do,” Quill’s brow furrowed as he worked on removing the blood that had dripped between your fingers without moving your hand too much. “Still, never seen you throw down like that before,” he teased. “It was kinda hot.”

You giggled. You and Quill had developed a friendly bond pretty fast once you’d joined the crew, and while you could appreciate the fact that he was most definitely attractive, he clearly had feelings for Gamora, and you were happy just being his friend. Besides, you had Rocket. Why would you want Quill?

“You freak.”

“Bet your boy thought so too,” Quill continued, wrapping your hand in a bandage. You rested your head on his shoulder; you could still feel it spinning a little.

“Pfft,” you waved your free hand.

“I’m serious.”

“When is Star Lord ever serious?”

“Fair point,” he chuckled, and you laughed along with him. You looked up when the door slid open, surprised to see Rocket back so soon. You felt for sure Gamora was going to have to knock him out to get him back. Quill smiled at him as he secured your bandage in place. “Hey, man.”

“Rocket, honey, are you—”

Rocket scoffed, turning and stalking off down the hall again.

“Wha— Rocket!” You stood, good hand steadying you against the wall as the room spun slightly. “Come back!”

You followed him to the cockpit, where he sat in his usual chair, staring angrily out the window. You noticed he had another open bottle in his hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?!” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. He still didn’t look at you. “Why are you here?”

You frowned. “I live here.”

“No. Why are you _here._ With me?” he gulped down a few mouthfuls, despite the fact that it had to be burning his throat. “You had your pick of ‘em tonight. Even had Quill lining up for a piece.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You and Quill! You and that asshole at the bar,” he laughed drunkenly. “You and the bartender! Take your damn pick!”

“Rocket, I don’t—”

“Why are you wastin’ you time with me?” He shouted, and you recoiled in shock. “You pity me, is that it? You feel bad for the freak?! I’m not your fuckin’ charity case!”

“Rocket, what the fuck are you talking about? You’re not a freak.”

“Just fuck off, alright?”

“No,” you said stubbornly, setting your jaw. “Not until you look at me and tell me what the fuck is going on.”

He growled almost reflexively, and you watched him pull at his fur in frustration.

“What the hell were you talking about? What does Quill or anyone else have to do with anything?”

“’Cause you fit with them!” he snarled, finally turning around. “You… you could have something normal with them, not with some… monster like me!”

“Rocket…” you stumbled slightly as you stepped forward. “You’re overreacting—”

“’Overracting’?! Me?! Probably!” He laughed, coughing. When he spoke, his voice sounded thick, like there was something lodged in his throat. “Look at me, Y/N. I’m not like you. Not like Quill. You—”

“Why do you keep bringing up Quill?”

“Because he’s just like you!” He shouted, waving a paw towards the door. “You and him, you’re the same, and you were in the bunk and you’re—”

“Just friends.” You told him. “Is that what this is about? You think Quill and I…? Rocket, there’s nothing between me and Quill. He’s my friend. He’s your friend. Do you really think we would do that to you?”

“You should.” He muttered, tears catching in his throat. “You should be with someone you can actually… be with. We-we can’t…”

“Rocket.” You spoke slowly, moving to kneel in front of him. “Is this about the fact that we can’t have… sex?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, his expression almost tired. “Quill—”

“I’m not Quill.”

“You’re Terran.”

“So?” you laughed. “Not every Terran is as sex obsessed as Quill is. Rocket, I’m not an idiot. And I’m not blind. I know what we’ve got isn’t exactly… of the ordinary…”

He scoffed, hiccoughing slightly.

“…But I know how I feel. And I don’t need whatever it is you think I do to be happy. I already am. I’ve had some really shitty experiences in my life. And not a single one of my relationships fell apart because we were or weren’t having sex. And if that was something I wanted, then I would deal with that. Without inviting someone into my bed.”

“You should be with—”

“I should be with whoever I fucking want to be.” You interrupted him firmly, your voice softening. “And I want to be with you. Okay?”

He inhaled, breath shaking as he nodded. You smiled, gently and carefully cupping his face in your hands. You rubbed a thumb against the fur of his cheek.

“Good.” You leaned up to press a kiss between his eyes. You stood, holding out your arms to him. “Come back to the bunk?”

He smiled, climbing up your torso as you gathered him up in your arms. He buried his head in your neck, nuzzling into your collarbone affectionately. You giggled at the sensation, rolling your eyes.

“You know you’re a big softie, right?”

“Shut up.”


End file.
